


Comes and goes

by Tofu_is_amazing



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Ending: Swan Song, Amnesia, Angst, Episode: s05e22 Swan Song, Gen, M/M, Memory Loss, Post Season/Series 05, Post Swan Song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-15 09:39:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tofu_is_amazing/pseuds/Tofu_is_amazing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts six months later. Or maybe sooner, but Dean doesn't notice. It's so little, so insignificant that maybe it started as soon as Sam came back. Normally, and Dean snorts when he thinks about it because seriously? As if something ever had been normal in their lives... But that's the appropriate word, so, yes, normally Dean would know. He could pin point the exact moment things started to change. Because when it comes to Sam, he knows everything. He knows Sam's favorite food, knows the brand of his shampoo and the size of his jeans. He knows the sound of his breathing and he knows what songs he likes, he knows how to piss him off in record time, he knows his favorite color, he knows where are each and every single one of his scars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I can't, I'm waiting." 

That's what Sam says, a small smile playing on his lips, and Dean wants to cry.

 ~

 When Sam takes the reins back from Lucifer, when he gets back to the control room, Dean sees it. It's written on his face. His eyes aren't a bottomless pit of darkness, full of anger and excitement anymore. It's Sam in there, his gaze suddenly on Dean as if it's the first time he sees him. He notices the blood on his brother's face, how his right eye is swollen shut, his lips are split and his nose is broken. He notices his own knuckles, crimson red with blood, and he's already sure it's not his. There's fear but also hope in Dean's gaze, or at least in his left eye, and Sam feels Lucifer's anger boiling in him. He sees Dean and feels the urge to punch him again, to destroy that face he loves so much until it's just blood and bones, until Dean stops breathing. But he won't let Lucifer, he won't let him because he's stronger. The sudden realization is almost overwhelming, and he feels Lucifer cringing in pain, somewhere inside him. The Devil knows he's beaten. He knows there won't be any Apocalypse, because Sam Winchester loves his brother too much. Sam's heart beats faster, and each pulsation is like stabbing Lucifer in the back. The Devil fights, his claws ripping Sam's insides, but it's desperate. Lucifer doesn't want to have the control back, he just wants to leave that body, to leave that vessel, because it's too much. Sam won't let him. He speaks to Dean, doesn't remember what he says because Lucifer is screaming and covers the sounds of his own voice. But it must be enough, because Dean understands.

 Sam feels the rings in his pocket. He feels it, the door and its key, the solution, the miracle. He knows what it means, he knows he's gonna be stuck in the Cage for all eternity with Lucifer, he knows he's gonna pay. But he's not afraid, because Dean is there, on the ground, his face barely recognizable, and his brother looks at him like he's everything. He looks at him like he's a God, a hero, the whole world, the planets and the sun, everything. And it's enough, Sam knows it, he knows it'll be enough to survive every torture. The memory of that gaze won't be taken away from him, no matter how much Lucifer wants to hurt him. So Sam puts his hand in his pocket and takes the rings. He sees his hands shaking and feels his voice trembling when he speaks and it's a bit odd because he's never been so calm in his life.

He says them. The words. And the lock is open. The hole is there, just before him, and Lucifer screams even louder. His claws are tearing Sam apart from the inside, but it feels like little scratches. Lucifer is trapped, he's not even in the Cage yet and he's already trapped. He's trapped in something that is somehow stronger than any cell, perhaps even stronger than the Cage itself. Sam built an armor around him, he built walls without doors or windows, and there's one word painted everywhere, one word repeated like a mantra, like it's the most powerful thing in the world, and perhaps it is: Dean.

Sam is ready. He looks at Dean, just one last time. He knows he shouldn't, that he should just let go, that it's time now. But he's greedy and he looks at his brother one last time and what he sees takes his breath away. Dean is there. With him. Wonderful. Sam sees the face hidden beyond the blood and the pain. He sees freckles, big bright green eyes, he sees the smirks, the grins, the genuine smiles. He sees the broad shoulders and the bow legs, he sees the muscles, the skin, the life. He sees every cell, and Dean is the most beautiful thing on Earth. Sam closes his eyes, and let go. He feels Michael, and he's mad because he didn't want Michael to be the last image printed in his head. He's angry, and he grabs Michael because it's unfair. Adam is long gone, the little brother he and Dean never really had, and Sam feels angrier. Lucifer feels it too, and Sam's anger is almost more painful than his love. Michael speaks, but Sam doesn't listen, he grabs the archangel's shoulders and pulls him towards him. And they fall.

In the small deserted cemetery, Dean waits. Cas came back, and brought Bobby back too, and he healed Dean's broken face, but Dean didn't want to leave. No yet. So Cas left him, took Bobby back to his place and went back to his angel's duties. Heaven is a mess, on the verge of Civil war, now that the Archangels are gone. Dean couldn't care less. He promised Sam and he will go to Lisa, he will, but not just yet. The birds are still singing high in the pine trees, clouds still drifting lazily in the sky, and Dean doesn't understand. Time should be frozen. Birds should be dead, clouds should cry. Everything looks like nothing happened. Dean himself is as good as new. Smooth skin, no pain, no blood. It's not normal. Dean wants to call Cas and ask him to get his ass back here and give him back his broken nose. He wants the pain back, he wants a proof. Of course the biggest proof is right there, but he can't face it. He's alone.

He needs Sam to face this. He can't face Sam's death without Sam's arms to hold him. He can't cry Sam's disappearance without Sam to tell him that everything's gonna be okay. He needs Sam to mourn Sam. It breaks something in his heart, and he feels dizzy. He feels like he tries to climb one more step in the staircase when there really isn't any. He has vertigo, and before he notices it, he's on his hands and knees, throwing up everything he hasn't eaten in days, on the ground. He thinks he's gonna vomit everything, his guts, his stomach, his lungs, his heart. He thinks he's going to die and he's almost relieved.

But then the ground is shaking, and it takes Dean a moment to notice that this isn't in his head, and that something is really happening. The ground trembles, and Dean thinks it looks like the Earth is about to throw up too, and he thinks it's about time someone or something notices what just happened. It's warmer, it feels like the ground is feverish, like it's sick, and Dean doesn't know if he should be afraid or not. He also thinks that Sam just died so there's nothing much that can scare him anymore. It's too bright, the light is blinding him, he can't see and he's pissed because if he's about to die, then he wants to see it, but it's burning his eyes and he has to close them. Everything is vibrating, and Dean sees colors behind his closed eyelids. White, most of all, but also red, sparkles of red and something that looks like blue but not quite and he's not sure it's a color he has seen before. He really wants to see but he can't. It's strange, because there isn't a single sound, it's a silent apocalypse, and hell, maybe this is it? Maybe it's still happening? But it's a deafening silence, and Dean feels sick. There should be the rumble of thunder, the tombstones should scream, he should hear the birds flying away, their wings desperately flapping to get away from this place, but it's just silence. Somewhere on his left, there's gold. Gold shining and blinding him even if his eyes are closed. It's gold, it's bright, it's so beautiful it can't be something bad. _Pure._ That's what Dean thinks, and he doesn't know why that word. But he knows he's right. It's purity, purity at its finest. Something so pure it shouldn't be here, because it's too beautiful, too perfect for a place like this. Dean wants to tell this, whatever it is, to go away. Because there's only pain here. Pain, liars, thieves, cheaters. Death. Beauty doesn't belong here. It's an insult.

 Silence. And finally, darkness. When Dean opens his eyes, he realizes it's night. He looks at the sky and the moon is still there, but there are no stars, not a single one. Not as in « the clouds are hiding the stars », but as in « there isn't a single cloud and there isn't a single star ». The sky is empty, except for the moon. There are no clouds but Dean feels rain. He feels an invisible rain soaking him. His shirt is clinging to his skin, and soon he's so wet he feels like he just took a shower with his clothes. But he can't see it. He feels the drops rolling down his arms but he can't see them. He can't see the rain and it's the weirdest feeling ever. Maybe the stars are dead. Maybe the clouds are gone. _Maybe I'm dead._

Dean looks around and that's when he sees him. Sam. _That's it. I'm dead._ He must be, there isn't any other explanation, because Sam is there, lying flat on his back just where a few hours ago he stood before jumping in the pit. Dean stands up, unable to understand what's happening. He wants to scream, he wants someone to explain him what's happening. He doesn't dare taking his eyes off of the shape of his brother's body on the ground. He knows something's wrong. Something's very wrong because if Dean's dead then why does Sam looks like he's dead? Shouldn't they be both alive and happy? Is this Hell? Is this a new form of torture? Less blood and less rack and more Sam and more death?

Dean slowly comes near his brother, he doesn't dare looking at his chest, because if it doesn't move, then it means Sam's not breathing, and Dean isn't sure he's able to understand this right now. He lost his brother a few hours ago, he doesn't think he's capable of losing him again. Still, he sits next to Sam's head, and looks at his brother's face. There's no blood, no broken bones, Sam looks like... Sam. He looks like he's taking a nap. He looks relaxed, no frown on his face, his cheeks are slightly pink, his lips partly open. Dean can almost see the dimples, and he'd like Sam to smile, even if he's dead, just to see the dimples again. Sam looks young and old, he looks like he's seen everything and like he's just been born. And Dean can see that just by looking at his brother's face. It's kind of amazing. Sam is beautiful, he's more beautiful than any other human being, he's more beautiful than angels, he's more beautiful than stars. Maybe that's why they're gone. Because Sam's there, and why would you look up to the stars when Sam is right there with you?

Dean smiles, because Sam is dead but at least Sam is here. He'll have a hunter's funeral. He'll go to heaven, maybe he's already there, he'll be at peace and that's everything Dean has the right to ask.

That's when Sam opens his eyes.

 ~

 It starts six months later. Or maybe sooner, but Dean doesn't notice. It's so little, so insignificant that maybe it started as soon as Sam came back. Normally, and Dean snorts when he thinks about it because seriously? As if something ever had been normal in their lives... But that's the appropriate word, so, yes, normally Dean would know. He could pin point the exact moment things started to change. Because when it comes to Sam, he knows everything. He knows Sam's favorite food, knows the brand of his shampoo and the size of his jeans. He knows the sound of his breathing and he knows what songs he likes, he knows how to piss him off in record time, he knows his favorite color, he knows where are each and every single one of his scars. He knows Sam says he doesn't like dessert but he still smiles like a 5 years old when there's cake in dinners. He knows Sam can't stand AC/DC even if he never said it out loud. He knows Sam likes blonds better than brunettes and he also knows that Sam goes only for brunettes because blonds remind him of Jess. He knows everything about Sam and if the tiniest little thing changes, then he knows it.

Except Sam was dead six months ago. Except Dean was alone, for a few hours, and he thought his whole world was gone. Except Sam came back, god knows how. Except Sam wasn't even dead. Except Sam wasn't even hurt. Except Sam was back and everything was _fine._ So Dean doesn't notice when things start to change, because he still can't believe his luck. He wakes up at night and is afraid for one moment that he's gonna be alone, that all of this had been a stupid dream, and he has to force himself to turn his head and see his brother in the next bed because he's so afraid the bed is gonna be empty that he doesn't dare looking. He's petrified that he's gonna wake up in Hell, and that whoever took Alastair's place when Sam killed him will be there, smiling softly before torn him to shreds. He's afraid it's just hallucinations. He doesn't really care if it's not real, he's just scared to wake up. If everything comes from his mind, if this is his twisted way of coping with Sam's death, then so be it, he really doesn't give a damn. He just doesn't want to wake up alone. He wants Sam, there, with him, every day. And it's a wonder everytime he gets out of bed to see his brother softly snoring under the sheets or to hear him humming in the shower.

 When Sam asks for a burger, Dean doesn't say anything, because Sam likes burgers from time to time. You can't eat salad 24/7, Dean doesn't even understand why Sam's skin hasn't turned green yet because all he seems to eat is salad. All the time, and on Dean's food scale, it's unhealthy. So he's actually glad when Sam orders a burger, and he even cracks a joke about Sam finally being rational. He doesn't notice the puzzled look on Sam's face, nor does he say anything when Sam asks for shots of tequila at noon. Who cares? Sam is _there._

That night, they end up drunk and it's a miracle Dean doesn't drive the impala in a ditch.

 The stars are still gone, it's been six months and the moon is still all alone in the sky at night. When Sam came back, Dean asked him what he remembered, what had happened. Sam didn't know. And Dean believed him because Sam hadn't that haunted look, didn't seem to be hiding anything, and even if they're Winchesters and so bound to be professional liars, he knew Sam was telling the truth. Sam didn't remember, and that was a good thing. They both tried to understand how Sam could possibly be back, they read books, asked around (meaning they talked to Bobby), they spent countless hours trying to figure out what had happened but they never found anything. Dean has ideas, ideas he never shared with Sam because Sam wouldn't believe him. Dean believes Sam had been too pure. He remembers the golden light, he remembers the Earth shaking and trembling, as if feverish, he remembers the invisible rain, the invisible tears. He remembers the stars, suddenly gone. And he thinks it's all connected to Sam. He thinks that Sam's sacrifice was too selfless, too pure. He thinks it was so beautiful it couldn't end just like that. He thinks Sam had been swallowed in a pit supposed to be made of darkness, and fear and pain, a cage from which no one could escape, and Sam was way too innocent to be trapped in there. The Earth had been sick, sick because it didn't fit, it wasn't right. Letting Sam fall in the Cage left a bitter taste, a sour flavor, and the Earth had been sick with it. It took power, it took all the stars, it took the rain, it took the clouds, but the ground had rejected Sam, eventually.

That's what Dean believes.  
That's what he never tells Sam.

They settle in Rufus's cabin, because they need to lay low, at least that's what Dean says. Sam is fine, physically and mentally, he's never been better, he could hunt on his own, he could go, and it scares Dean but sometimes he catches Sam's gaze on him and it reassures him a little. There is such devotion in that gaze that Dean believes Sam loves him, a little at least. Weeks later, they're driving to the Grand Canyon when Sam puts the AC/DC cassette in the player. Dean almost snaps his neck turning his head to look at Sam, and Sam just shrugs. "I like AC/DC", he says.  
 _No you don't,_ thinks Dean.

That's the first time he wonders if Sam is really okay.

 ~

Sam wakes up and looks around him, confused. The cabin is small and tidy, and smells like wet wood and mushrooms, and fire and dirt. It's a nice smell. He turns around and sees the shape of somebody else's body in the bed next to his. He has a split second of panic, wondering who the hell it is, and then his brain catches up, and _Dean._ He almost wants to laugh. They're at Rufus's. They've been there for weeks now. Sam thought that after the Grand Canyon – which was awesome – they would go back to hunting, but Dean had said he needed more time, and Sam was more than willing to give him some. But it's been weeks now, and they're still here, just walking around in the woods for hours before going back to the cabin. Dean picks up wood for the fire, Sam picks up mushrooms for the food. They tried to switch once, but Dean had picked poisonous mushrooms and since then, they focus on their respective tasks. Sam's not suicidal, thank you very much. He can't say he doesn't like this, whatever « this » is. Being alone, just with Dean, spending some time together, just enjoying some nice free time and not wondering where the next gas station is or if they need to hustle pool a little because they run low on cash. It's nice to sleep in the same bed for more than two nights, and it's a luxury to not think about demons and ghosts. He can let his mind drift, wander without any focus.

In the bed next to his, Dean is deeply asleep, and it's a beautiful sight. Sam sometimes feels ashamed because it's creepy to watch people sleep, even more when it's your brother, but he can't help it. Dean looks at peace, he looks relaxed, he looks how he would have looked like if they had had normal lives. It pains Sam a little, but again, maybe a normal life would have meant no Dean. He doesn't want to think about a life where Dean and him wouldn't have been so close. It sends a shiver down his spine every time he thinks about it.

He gets out of his bed, and walks silently to the small kitchen, before pouring himself a glass of water. It's so hot in there he feels like he's living in an oven. He's sweating and his hair is plastered on his forehead. It's annoying. Now that he thinks about it, his hair is always in the way and it's really getting on his nerves. He tries to remember why he keeps it so damn long but can't figure to think of an answer. He finishes his drink and goes to the bathroom. Once he has closed the door, he switches on the light and looks at himself in the small stained mirror.

_Dude, why the hair?_

He doesn't think, just open the first-aid kit they keep in the bathroom and takes the scissors. He cuts the first lock and he feels better, he feels air on his forehead and it's delightful. He cuts another lock, and another, without trying to look like something. He's not making himself a new haircut, he just cuts his hair. Once he's done, the sink is full of brown locks, and he doesn't feel anything covering his ears and it's wonderful. He looks at himself and smiles because _Damn! It feels good._

A small knock on the door startles him, and he laughs quietly. When he opens the door, he's still smiling, but the look on Dean's face is one of pure terror.

"W-What, wha-"

"I cut it", Sam says, because Dean doesn't seem able to form whole sentences right now. His brain must have short circuited.

Dean stops looking at Sam's hair and furrows his brow, opening and closing his mouth as if he's got too many things to say and doesn't know where to begin.

"Why?" He finally manages to ask, and Sam smiles, because Dean's reaction is quite funny.

"Dude, chill out, it was bothering me, that's all."

Dean shakes his head and speaks again, more firmly this time.

"You hate when your hair is short."

Sam stills, tries to think about this and just shrugs.

"No I don't."

"Yes you do!"

Dean's voice is loud now, and Sam doesn't understand why Dean is almost screaming.

"Dean, seriously, what the fuck, it's not a big deal! It's not even your hair, why do you even care?!"

"I care", Dean says more evenly, even if it's clear that he's angry and – afraid? - for whatever reason, "because you hate when people touch your hair. You cried everytime I had to cut your hair when you were a kid, and then you told me yourself that you cut them in Stanford and Jessica had told you you looked like a 5 years old and that it was the most embarrassing thing in your life – which is kind of pathetic man – and now you're standing in the bathroom at 3 fucking am and you've just cut your hair."

 Sam is really confused for a second. "Who?" he says, because he has no idea what Dean's talking about. Jessica is a familiar name, he must know someone who goes by this name, maybe someone they knew, but he can't figure it out. Dean's eyes go wide and he looks suddenly on the verge of panic.

"What do you mean, who?", he says and Sam wants to answer, wants to tell him that he has no idea what Dean's saying, but the look on Dean's face is so intense, so terrified that Sam knows he's missing something. That's when the pieces click together. That's when he sees Jess's face, her long blond hair, her angelic face, her endless legs. He hears her laugh, he hears her jokes, he remembers how much he loves her. Loved. Dean is still waiting, so Sam laughs weakly.

"Sorry, I'm still half asleep, I couldn't remember." It doesn't seem to comfort Dean, but there's nothing that Sam can do right now so he shakes his head and freezes when he doesn't see his hair dancing on his forehead.

_Oh. Right._

 Later, they go back to bed, and Sam knows Dean isn't sleeping, but he doesn't say anything. He's confused, because even if it was for a few moments, he forgot Jess.

 ~

Things go downhill after the "hair incident". Sam is lost. He doesn't say anything but Dean sees it anyway. When Sam wakes up, he's lost for a moment, and Dean is afraid when Sam looks at him and doesn't seem to recognize him. It never lasts. It's always there for just a few seconds, but those seconds are the longest of Dean's life.

Sam's hair is so short it's ridiculous. Dean wants to scream every time he sees it because it reminds him of that night. It reminds him of that "Who?", the exact moment when he realized that Sam was forgetting.

It's terrible, how fast it goes. They still walk around the wood, just enjoying some fresh air and talking about anything and everything, and Dean asks basic stuff and tries not to cringe when Sam fails epically when he tries to answer. Sam remembers the recent events. He remembers Lucifer, Michael, Gabriel, the seals, Lilith, Ruby. When Dean tells Sam about that time he and their dad yelled at each other over a fucking burger, they both laugh and Sam says that it's a good memory. It warms Dean's heart, so it's even more painful when Sam says they should call their dad and tell him to come by and say hi. It's been a while since they saw him.  
Dean doesn't say anything.

He calls Bobby when Sam's taking a shower, and asks him if it can be a curse, something, anything they can cure, and Bobby doesn't know what to say. Dean would give anything to hear Bobby cursing and telling him he's a moron, asking him what the hell he and his brother have done this time. But there's only silence, and Bobby says he's gonna look into it, and when he hangs up, Dean already knows there's nothing he can do. Sam forgets everything. Every morning, it takes him a little longer to recognize Dean and when it takes him a full minute, Dean goes in the shower and fights back tears. Bobby comes a few weeks later, stays the whole afternoon with the boys. Five whole hours. Three hundred minutes. Eighteen thousands seconds. He doesn't recognize Bobby.

When Bobby leaves, tears in his eyes after he tried to hug Sam and the whole things had been awkward because Sam doesn't hug strangers, Dean asks his brother if he wants to take a walk before the night fully settles. Sam just shakes his head, looking at the cabin, and apologizes to Dean.

"I can't. I'm waiting."

That's the first time he says it and Dean doesn't understand. He doesn't ask because it's been a really, really long day and he's not sure he can handle anything else today. He just nods and gets back in the cabin. That night, he passes out after drinking the whole bottle of whiskey, and the next day, Sam doesn't recognize him. Dean tries everything. He says "Sammy", "jerk", "sasquatch", all of those nicknames he gave Sam over the years but nothing changes. Sam just looks at him as if he's crazy. At least he doesn't mind staying with Dean, there's already that.

Every day, he asks Sam if he wants to take a walk, and every day, Sam looks expectantly at the cabin's door and says he can't, he's waiting. It goes on for a whole month, until Sam isn't Sam anymore. He's an empty shell, without memories of his life, and Dean drinks more than he should but he doesn't know how else he can cope. He sometimes cries in the shower, but most of the time he doesn't. It wouldn't change anything. One night, he tries one last thing and puts his lips on Sam's. They've been there before, forever ago, and they never talked about it. But it's the most powerful thing Dean can think of, it's his own most powerful memory. But Sam puts a hand on his chest and pushes him away, softly. "I can't", is what he says, again. That's the night Dean understands Sam's gone for good.

It's early in the afternoon and it's a beautiful day. Sam is sitting on the porch of the cabin, a beer in his hand and letting the sun warm his face. Dean is about to go for a walk, because if Sam doesn't want to, Dean needs to. It's maybe the one thing, with liquor, that helps him keeping his sanity. He keeps asking Sam to come with him, more a habit than something else.

"I can't, I'm waiting."

That's what Sam says, a small smile playing on his lips, and Dean wants to cry.

"Why?", he asks, thinking for the first time that he never asked.

Sam's smile widen, and his eyes are a bit brighter.

"I'm waiting for my brother."

Dean wants to throw up, and he doesn't know if it's the most horrible or beautiful thing in the world. Sam remembers him. Not him here, in front of him, but Dean, big brother Dean.

His voice is shaking when he speaks again, but he won't cry.

"Yeah? Where is he?"

Sam shrugs, but he's still smiling.

"Probably in town, with some chick. He'll be back later."

His face darkens when he mentions the girl, and Dean feels dizzy.

"What is he like?"

He knows he shouldn't ask, knows it's only gonna make the wound more sensitive, but he can't help himself. He wants to know what Sam remembers, he needs it more than anything else.

"He's a jerk", says Sam, but his smile is back. "He's older than me, you know, but I'm taller. His name is Dean."

Dean sits down, because he's not sure his legs can support him much longer.

"Dean. Cool. And he's a jerk?"

Sam laughs a little.

"I mean, not really. He's a jerk because he's my brother so he has to be a jerk you know. But not really. Not at all. I mean, yes sometimes he is a jerk because he makes things on purpose just to annoy me."

"That's lame."

"Yeah. Well I don't really mind, but don't say it to him."

"I won't."

Sam looks at him and something flickers in his gaze, but he doesn't add anything for a while. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, and he seems lost in his thoughts.

"I hope he's not with a chick though."

Dean knows it's stupid, but he can't help himself. He'll deal with this later with tequila and lemon.

"I'm pretty sure he's not."

Sam looks at him and furrows his brow, but there's hope in his gaze.

"You know him?"

Dean just nods, and Sam starts to smile. God, Dean has missed those dimples.

"Do you know where he is?"

"He... He'll be back shortly, but he's not with a chick."

"How do you know that?"

It's the longest conversation he and Sam had in weeks and Dean never wants it to end, even if it's one fucked up talk they're having right now.

"Because he loves you more than chicks."

Sam seems so grateful for that answer that Dean wants to rush forward and hug him.

"Oh."

Sam glances at Dean and bites his lower lip, just like always when he's thinking and for a few seconds, everything's back to normal. Sam looks like Sam, he's himself, and it's perfect. Dean want to yell, he wants to scream, to laugh hysterically until his stomach hurts.

"You know", Sam says, "don't freak out, it's not. I don't know how to say it, but don't freak out okay?"

Dean nods and Sam starts speaking.

"I love him too, because it was always just the two of us you know. Of course he's an idiot, because he still sees me as a five years old, and he sees himself as a butch. But you know, we -", and Sam bites his lips for a few seconds before he continues, "we hunt together, our dad taught us, and it's kind of, it's something we do a lot, you know, and Dean is the best hunter out there, you can trust me, he's the best."

Sam starts to laugh, and Dean doesn't say anything because he doesn't trust his voice.

"He built some of his weapons you know? He's a genius. But he doesn't believe me when I say it."

Dean feels the tears rolling on his cheeks before he realizes it, and he's thankful Sam isn't looking at him right now. Sam doesn't remember what kind of food he likes, he doesn't remember his own parents, he doesn't remember his life, but he remembers Dean. And he speaks, he speaks and Dean couldn't stop him if he wanted to.

"He listens to the same albums over and over again you know, and his car, god you should see him with his car, it's like it's his whole world, sometimes it's kind of creepy because he speaks to her as he would speak during sex, I- I mean not that I would know!" and Sam blushes furiously and Dean wants to laugh, because _Sam, you sold us out you big idiot,_ but he doesn't because his heart is in his throat, and every time Sam says something else, he feels a little lighter and little heavier.

"He likes junk food, you wouldn't believe it man, he eats things that are so gross I don't understand how he's not obese. And he often takes all the hot water in the shower and I never tell him I have to take cold ones, because he loves showers so much it's unhealthy."

Sam laughs and giggles like a kid, and Dean hides his head in his hand, his voice a wreck when he asks something he knows the answer to.

"And how does he look like?"

Sam stops speaking for several minutes and Dean is afraid he said the wrong thing. He's afraid to lift his head and look at Sam, so he just waits. As long as Sam doesn't leave, it can't be that bad, right? It takes ten more minutes for Sam to answer.

"I – I don't... I-", and Dean finally lifts his head, and Sam looks at him, brow furrowed like he's trying to read a book where half of the pages are missing and the others aren't put in the right order.

"He has green eyes, kinda like yours", is what he says finally.

Dean doesn't ask anything after that. _Enough, it's enough._

He's not sure his heart is beating anymore, but he's hungry and he's warm, and that's more than enough right now.

 _Yes,_ he thinks, _it's enough._


	2. Chapter 2

It's stupid to hope things can get better. It's also stupid to think they can't get worse.

Sam is out of it. There's no cure, no miracle, nothing. It's a done deal, maybe it was since the very beginning of this whole mess. Dean doesn't feel guilty, he knows that there's nothing he could have done sooner, nothing that could have prevented this. No spell, no deal to make, no magic potion to drink. Sam's head is empty, just glimpses of his past still there, apparently random pictures from his life he kept like hidden treasures. The fires of that 4th of July years ago. Suzie Heizer, biology class. The motel room with the clowns on the bed sheets. Small things, that don't mean anything, but that Sam speaks about from time to time, a small smile playing on his lips. It's nothing, really, and Dean doesn't know what to make of all this. He's glad that Sam still has some pieces of his life to hold on to, and at the same time he hates it because it gives him a little glimpse of hope and he doesn't want it. Hope hurts.

They stay at Rufus's cabin for months, and Dean is going out of his mind. It's not only Sam. It's also that there is nothing there to do. He can't leave Sam alone, because even though Sam's just lost his memories and isn't dumb, Dean fears that Sam will take off and get lost. He can't do anything in the cabin because there is NOTHING to do there, and he can't leave because Sam doesn't want to. _I can't, I'm waiting._ Dean still asks Sam if he wants to come for a walk in the evening, even when the days shorten and the temperature grows colder. And every time, Sam answers him the same way, apologetic but firm. To be honest, Dean holds on to those words, holds on to them for dear life because they mean Sam remembers him. Not him, there, physically, but "Dean", an idea, a memory, perhaps even nothing more than a vague concept, but Dean nonetheless. It's hope, and again, it's very bad, but Dean can't help it. Hope and whiskey are all he has left, and he takes them even though they both hurt him.

It takes days to convince Sam to move. He doesn't want, he's saying Dean's gonna come back anytime now and that he can't leave. Dean wants to scream "But I'm here, I'm fucking right in front of you", but instead he just explains that they've got codes, and that Dean will find them no matter where they go. Sam seems worried but eventually he nods. They leave, and Sam's eyes widen when he sees the Impala, whistles, and says with some kind of reverence "nice wheels" and Dean is so happy he might or might not laugh for the next ten minutes. He doesn't see when Sam furrows his brows and chews on his lower lips. Sam doesn't remember the car, _of course he doesn't,_ and it should hurts as much as everything else these days but Dean doesn't want to care. "Nice wheels" is good enough. 

They drive for days, and Sam insists they stay in motel rooms every night, because if Dean looks for them, he'll try the motels, always the first one in the phone book. Dean doesn't bother telling him that if he was indeed looking for Sam, he sure as Hell wouldn't check all the motels of all those lost towns and would just track down the GPS signal on Sam's phone, but he feels better sleeping in a bed and not in the backseat of his car, so he agrees with Sam. They eat junk food, drink and pass out of their respective beds. Sam is still a light weight, which is kind of stupid considering how built the guy is. When he's drunk he giggles, heavy lids and glassy look, he snorts and tells Dean things he remembers, times when he and Dean got drunk together. Surprisingly, they haven't done that much, and Dean regrets it. He would give a lot to be with Sam right now. The complete version.

"And then Dean fell off the ground, face right in the mud", Sam says before he starts laughing hysterically. Dean smiles, remembers, and is tempted to say  _ You forgot to mention the part where I drag you down with me  _ but just starts laughing too. There are tears in Sam's eyes, and the story is funny, sure, but not  _ that  _ funny and Dean doesn't know what's this all about. 

Later that night, he tucks Sam's comforter around him, and brushes Sam's hair back gently. There's an itch, something tugging at the back of his mind, and he tries not to think about it, but it's there, and he can't really stop thinking about it.  _ We can't go on like this.  _

_ ~ _

Sam wakes up in the motel room alone, and he starts freaking out because Dean wouldn't leave without him. He tries to breathe, but his throat tightens and all he can manage to have is a laborious gulp of air that doesn't do anything to calm him. That's when he hears the shower, and that's when he remembers. Right. The motel room, the guy, Dean out there somewhere doing whatever he feels like doing. The pieces come together, and he relaxes slightly. Not completely because it's been a while since he last saw Dean, and it's bugging him a little. They haven't been apart that much since their childhood. He knows Dean has his reasons for being away, and that he's not mad or anything, but still, something's just... wrong. He notices it more and more. When they left the place in the woods, he saw the car and something happened. He's not quite sure, he can't pin point the exact moment when he thought « There's something important here », but he knows he's right. He sees the car and quickly spots the toy soldier in the ashtray, and he can't say what happened, but he knows it's supposed to be there, and he knows it's stuck. He knows it's normal, and he doesn't understand why because he doesn't remember ever seeing that car before. He could ask, but he doesn't want to look like an idiot, so he doesn't say anything. Just admire the car, and says it's a great one. Apparently it's the right answer, considering how happy it makes his partner/friend/whatever that guy is to him.

They leave and go back to a routine Sam knows without understanding how. He sleeps in motel rooms, always hoping the next one will be the one where Dean will finally show up. He eats junk food, and drinks until he's so drunk he's about to pass out. Those are nice days, easy, simple. He wants to hunt, to something useful, because it feels like it's been an eternity since the last time he sent a demon back to Hell. He doesn't know how to bring up the idea, he doesn't want to freak out the guy with him. Speaking of, there's also something's wrong with him. Just like with the car, there's an itch at the back of Sam's mind whenever he looks at the guy. He doesn't even know his name, and doesn't want to ask again because they've been stuck together for a while now and it seems a bit rude to casually say "hey, by the way, I kind of forgot, what's your name again?", and thank you very much, Sam may feel a little weird lately but there's weird and there's crazy. Still, he can't quite figure out what it is, but there is something. About the legs, slightly bowed. About the green eyes and the broad shoulders and the freckles. There's is a very important thing behind the crinkles, and the scars, and the spiky hair. It's there, just in frnt of him, at the tip of his tongue, and he can't say it and it's making him angry. He doesn't like the feeling. He just wants to find Dean and leave everything behind. He wants to go back to normal, and just that, just the fact that he knows that whatever it is right now _is not_ normal, it's upsetting.

At least, things get a little easier when he spots the tattoo on the guy chest, surprisingly similar to his own, and brings up the hunting subject. The guy seems reluctant, eyeing Sam as if he was the cause of his hesitation. But Sam tells him, he reassures him, shows him he already knows everything there is to know about hunting. He tells him about all the monsters he and his brother have fought, tells him he knows how to use a gun, a knife, his bare hands. The guy just nods along, shaking his head a little as if Sam's skills aren't the problem, and Sam doesn't get it.

"Look, if you're worried about working together, let's just try and see how it goes, okay?", he finally says when he hasn't any argument left in his pocket. "If you don't like working with me, then fine, we can split and go our ways, I mean, it's not like we're bound to stay together."

The guy snorts, but doesn't say no, and when Sam adds "please", he knows he just won.

 

~

 

_Fucking puppy eyes. God fucking puppy eyes._

Dean knew he wouldn't say know the minute Sam looked at him with those wide eyes full of hope and pledge and almost _watery, fucking watery._ That's why they're here. That's not because Dean was going crazy, not because they were bored, or because they happened to find a case in the town where tbey were. If they're here, in the coroner's office, wearing suits and holding fake FBI badges in front of the doctor's eyes, it's because of Sam's puppy eyes. Dean already knows this is a bad idea. Even though the case will be wrapped up in no time, it's still a really, really bad idea. Three people died camping in the small forest that circling the small town. Animals attacks, according to the local police, wendigo according to Sam. It's quite obvious, and Dean remembers they haven't face one of those since the year he came back to find Sam in his dorm years ago, when he was living with Jess, when he was having his normal life, as he liked to call it. It seems like it was an eternity ago. It's only been five years, actually. Funny. _Ah fucking ah._

Anyway, that's not the point. The point is they are going to hung in the woods and even if they find the damn thing and kill it without too much trouble, well it's still a bad idea. Dean remembers how bad it went the last time, but they grew up since then. They faced a lot worse. They prevented the goddamn apocalypse for christ's sake! The problem is Sam doesn't remember that. And yes, his brother has reflexes, and you can't forget reflexes, but still. It's like hunting with a complete strangers, because has no idea how Sam will react, no idea how it will go once they find the wendigo. And it scares him senseless, because even though he has to live with the trial version of Sam, it's still his brother, alive, and it's better than broken bones and blood and no pulse. Sam is there, with him. It's not Sam anymore, but it's still his brother, and he's still the most important person in Dean's world. He's still Dean's world. There's nothing Dean would choose over his brother, nothing, no one, screw God, screw Hell, screw Heaven, screw everybody, Sam is the only one who matters. It's that simple.

Once they're positively sure they're facing a wendigo, they go back to the motel room and stuff their duffel bags with everything they need. There's a couple shouting and yelling at each other in the room next to theirs, and the walls are thin, so they can hear everything when they're in the parking lot and when Dean opens the truck of his car. That's probably why he doesn't hear Sam's gasp when his brother sees the hidden part of the truck, with all the weapons, all the guns, the knives,the hex bags. Once he has everything he needs, he closes the trunk, looks at Sam and feels a heavy weight settling in his stomach when he asks: "ready?".

Sam nods, his eyes still on the car, his brow furrows like he's thinking really hard about something and Dean is about to ask what's wrong when Sam shakes his head and sighs.

"Let's go."

Dean isn't always right. Even if he says so. That's something he likes to brag about, because he's the big brother here, so it's in the job description to say "I'm always right" to your kid brother. And truth be told, he's right often enough that the statement isn't really ridiculous. Of course he makes mistakes, he's human, he's not a superhero, or a god. He makes mistakes. He wasn't right the night of his twentieth birthday when he thought one glass of water between each shot would guarantee a morning without a hangover. He wasn't right when he assumed the lady in the green dress at that diner along the highway near Dallas was a woman. He wasn't right that first night, when between the sheets he whispered "it's not that big of a deal" against Sam's shoulder. So yes, he makes mistakes. But right now, as he's about to be torn to shreds by a really angry wendigo, he can't help but think "I knew it.". He and Sam found the wendigo easily, narrowing the perimeter until they found what they were looking for, a dark hole in the ground, some sort of stinking cavern where they found suspiciously human shaped bones. They only had to wait until the creature came back, except they didn't think that maybe it was already there. Sam is knocked out before he even knows what's happening, and then it's Dean's turn. He sees it, the thin body, the bulging eyes and the yellow fangs. He hasn't time to find his lighter and put the thing on fire before he's thrown across the cavern and lands face first against a rock.

_Fuck._

It hurts, and he can feel the blood flowing from his forehead. That one is gonna need stitches, that's for sure. And the scar will be hideous, but right now it's not really Dean's top priority because the wendigo is coming towards him, an awful scream echoing in the cavern.

Sam comes back to himself when the wendigo is walking towards the guy who seems unconscious on the ground. Sam's not sure, because he can't really see, but apparently there's blood on his partner's face. His own head hurts, but he hasn't got time to think about it. He's up on his feet and feels like he's drunk, the whole scenery trembling before his eyes. Maybe it's a concussion. He looks on the ground and spots his bag. He stumbles through the knives and the gun until he finally finds the gasoline and his lighter. He's got one shot at this, so he wants to do it right, but at the same time he's running a bit out of time here, so he just runs for it. He pours the gasoline on the wendigo and the monster turns around with a hiss. Sam's about to have his throat sliced by one of the monster's claw when suddenly flames swallow the creature. The scream is terrible, Sam feels it crawling under his skin, and it sends shivers down his spine.

He's on his knees, not remembering how he ended up like this but it doesn't matter because there is a lot of blood on the guy's face. His left eye is already swollen shut, and they'll be one hell of a bruise there tomorrow. But Sam doesn't think about that. He just looks at the guy's face. He sees the blood, the way the guy's mouth tries to say something but can't manage to find the words. It seems like he's saying "Sam" over and over again, like he actually can't believe Sam is there, alive, by his side. It's kind of ridiculous, but Sam can't focus on anything but the blood. It looks so familiar, he saw that face before, he's sure he has. He remembers broken bones, he remembers his own knuckles crimson red from blood, not even his own. He remembers the cemetery, he remembers that thing, inside of him, that tried to make him do things he didn't want to do. He remembers the power, the adrenaline coursing through his veins, he remembers being blinded by the sun, he remembers spotting the toy soldier in the ashtray, he remembers taking the reins back, he remembers Lucifer, screaming inside of him, trying to get out, trying to escape, he remembers looking at...

"Dean."

It's a quiet whisper, but as soon as it escapes his lips, Sam's hit with a wave of memories. He's drowning in memories, of what happened those last few months, and of what happened those last decades. He remembers everything, everyone. And he can't focus, can't stop the flow of souvenirs, it's like a rollercoaster, he feels like his head is gonna explode. He tries to focus on Dean's face, whose eyes are so huge they might as well pop out of his face. Dean's voice is broken when he speaks, like he's not sure he heard right and doesn't even want to ask because he won't be able to face the answer if it's not what he thinks it is.

"Sam?"

And Sam can see it, can hold on to that. There's a storm inside his head but he holds on to that, to Dean's voice. He can't speak, can't get the words out of him, but he nods, frantically, clutching at his brother's shirt desperately. They need to go back to the motel, Dean needs stitches, they also need to talk, they need to do so many things but right now, it's enough, just being there.

_Yeah,_ thinks Sam,  _it's enough._


End file.
